the (broken) road to recovery
by Briwookie
Summary: After going over the edge, Eric Cartman is sent to Peak View, a behavioral clinic in Colorado Springs. However, when Eric meets his psychiatrist, it may take him longer than expected to leave.
1. it will get better

He was always taught from the moment he was born that it was best to push toothpaste from the bottom to the top.

It was to keep it lasting longer, since toothpaste was pretty expensive. Honestly, he considered it a pet peeve to people just push it from the middle, so he made sure he could feel the paste from the seam of the packet every time. Eric Cartman did just that, taking his red toothbrush out from his Ziploc bag, and putting a dime-sized amount on the bristles.

He looked at himself in the mirror and ignored the bags as he ran his brush underneath the faucet. It wasn't like he couldn't get sleep. The room wasn't bad, even with the uncomfortable mattress, or the constant repetition of wheels scratching the floor as the nurses paced with their carts. He was fine with that. The only problem was that he didn't like closing his eyes and resting. Since he got to Peak View, Eric refused to cave. He didn't want to fall into a routine: sleep, wake, eat, attempt to improve, eat, attempt to improve again, shower, and sleep again. He refused. Most of the other teenagers here are fine with it, but he wasn't going to fall into what they wanted him to fall into. Not here.

He glanced down and noticed more of the paste washed away, but he put it into his mouth anyways to get the grimy taste of porkchops out of his mouth. Even the food tasted artificial. Eric would kill for a bag of Cheesy Poofs, but when he went into the cafeteria for the first time three days ago, he knew they sold store-brand, and he couldn't deal with it. So, he dealt with the lousy potato chips they had, just because it was something he recognized.

The seventeen year-old finished brushing his teeth, chugged his mouthwash, and attempted to go back to his bed to see if he could get a good ten minutes of sleep before his therapy. By the time he close his eyes, he heard his alarm go off, and he would have thrown it across the room if he wasn't so tired.

Rebellion was going to be hard here.

* * *

"It felt a little cooler this morning on my way here, and I actually thought it was going to snow, so I brought my hat, my scarf, and my gloves. Turns out, it was just the breeze."

Eric tried sitting up to make it look like he was giving a shit as his therapist was explaining the drive over to the clinic. He could barely maintain it, and she talked like she purposefully slowed her voice down. He glanced over towards the other boys that were closer to her. One of them looked just as disinterested as he was, while the other one was staring at her tits. Typical.

"But I did hear we were going to be getting more snow later on in the week, so that will be interesting. Let's see how my car holds up to that."

"Ms. Jackson," an acne-faced kid said from the other side of the circle. "It snows all the time in Colorado."

"Oh, right." The therapist laughed, pushing some of her red curls behind her shoulder. "You guys have to remind me every now and then. Coming from Florida, well, we don't typically get that kind of weather."

Eric scowled at the idea of someone moving from one of the sunniest places in the states to one of its polar opposites. He couldn't even imagine living here for all of his life. If it were up to him, he wouldn't mind living in California, but then again, he wouldn't need to worry about where he'd like to stay for a while. It was going to be a while before he got out of here and felt a sliver of freedom again. He sneezed, not even attempting to cover his mouth, and the woman who barely looked like she got out of college glanced back.

"Speaking of reminders, let's all welcome Eric to the group. He's new to Peak View, so it would be good to give him a warm welcome."

Some of the other guys clapped, and some of them just glowered in his direction. He didn't blame them, he would react the same way. He tried recognizing them from any of the other dipshits he saw in the halls, but they all looked fresh.

"Your enthusiasm could be more encouraging, but it is fairly early in the morning, so it's understandable."

Eric hated the tone of her voice and wished she would shut up, but he kept his mouth closed. He didn't want to waste whatever energy he had.

"So, today we are going to be talking about a different topic that's come up before, but we didn't really go into too much detail towards." She turned her body towards a white board that was on her side of the room, and Eric had to squint to read the small handwriting as she starting writing. "We're going to be looking at ourselves from the perspective of somebody else."

She grinned and faced the group once she was done writing a question on the board. It read, _Who are We to Others?_

"I would like a few of you to volunteer and come up here and write something down below the question. It can be anything you want, as long as it relates to how you feels others see you from their perspective."

At first, Eric questioned why a professional in this field would ask this kind of question, when it was obvious how the patients would react, but he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see someone was standing from their seat. It was the boy who was feasting his eyes earlier. He walked over to the board and picked up the marker, taking a moment to analyze the question as though he actually cared about his answer. After a few seconds, he wrote down something and then walked back to his seat.

Eric lifted his eyebrows.

 _'Weak.'_

Ms. Jackson sent a sympathetic glance over towards the boy, before coughing into her hand.

"Would anyone else like to contribute?"

A couple of other boys did the same thing. They walked over to the board, wrote down a couple of words, and returned to their seats. Eric just studied his chewed fingernails like they were more important. Ms. Jackson eventually rose from her seat and took a good look at the three words.

"Well, boys, it seems as though your opinions from the other people are more pessimistic than anything. I would like someone to explain why they feel this way. Roger, why don't you go first?"

Roger was the boy who wrote 'weak' on the board. He was shorter than Eric, and his face was covered by a mop of blonde hair.

"They'd always call me at in school." He muttered, barely audible.

"That's horrible, nobody deserves to be called that. You should know that the labels people put on you do not define who you are as a person. You are more than what others make of you."

Eric bit his lower lip, wanting to argue against that, but he couldn't think of the words to say. The blonde boy smiled slightly, but nothing really changed. He knew that the boy was still troubled by how others looked at him. What was this lady trying to prove?

"Richard, why don't you go next?"

Ms. Jackson asked the other two boys about their answers, and basically gave the same answers as she did to Roger. Eric shifted in his seat uncomfortably as her eyes drifted towards him, and he knew she would call him out. He tried losing her eye contact, but it was too late. She was swift, and he hated it.

"Eric? Why don't you go ahead."

Well. Might as well make it worth the effort of being here in the first place, he thought. Eric walked over to the board, and wrote two words, instead of one.

 _'Fuck off.'_

Ms. Jackson stared at the board with a paler complexion, as Eric turned away and walked out of the room.

Maybe now he could actually catch up on some of the sleep he missed.

* * *

Eric stared down towards his cheddar soup and played with it, his plastic spoon swirling it from inside the bowl. He tasted some of it, and while it tasted a little better than the dinner from last night, he could barely stomach eating it. The sandwich wasn't much better, since the meatballs were too soggy for his taste. He knew he'd have to get used to the new food that they served, but he'd rather fill his mouth with pizza, or KFC.

"That was a pretty sick move you made back that."

The brunette raised his head as someone sat on the other side of him. It was somebody with blonde hair, like that Roger kid, only his hair was much greasier and it hung around his face. He was wearing an orange jacket, but it looked scratched up and withered. He narrowed an eyebrow as the other boy made himself comfortable.

"What?"

"My name's Kenny, by the way. I was like you, I didn't speak for shit. I just get annoyed with that lady."

This guy certainly was talkative. Eric pressed his lips together. He took a bite of his sandwich, and managed to swallow it down without much difficulty. He remembered that this boy was also in his group therapy, but he didn't notice him too much. It was almost like he wasn't there.

"You just got here, didn't ya? Well, most of the other guys here are pretty nice, so don't worry about them or anything."

"Why…are you talking to me?" Eric muttered, looking into the other boy's blue eyes. There was a mischievous light to them, like he was playing a game.

"I found you interesting. Plus, I laughed my ass off after you left the room. She was fighting to collect her words for the rest of the session."

"Really?" Eric was interested now, but only for a brief second.

"Mhm. Good thing we only have to go those sessions twice a week, otherwise I don't know what I would do."

"I just hate how it's so early in the morning." Eric said, and Kenny grinned. There were a couple of teeth missing from the front row.

"Didn't get much sleep last night?"

"The beds are so uncomfortable." Eric lied.

"They're actually pretty good, if you get in 'em real good. You have to get used to it. I know I couldn't sleep good for the first few months I was here."

"You've been here for a while?" Eric was suddenly interested. He wondered what he could have done, and why he managed to get in here, but Kenny just laughed at the response.

"We all have. Even a month feels like a while here. At least our rooms have TVs."

There was a moment of silence as Kenny opened a bag of chips. "Also, when I first got here, I didn't talk to anyone. I was mad, but now it's been a lot better."

Eric was about to say something else, but something inside of him prompted him speechless. He watched the boy in front of his eat his food, but he just stared at his sandwich while Kenny continued to talk. He spoke about the clinic, and about his time there. Eric found it too normal for someone who was in their shoes to talk about their time here like it wasn't out of the ordinary. But he didn't tell the other boy to shut up, instead he felt relaxed. Maybe this was something he needed, a person to calm his nerves.

"Who's your psychiatrist?" Kenny asked, crumpling up his bag and throwing it on the table. Eric snapped out of his distraction.

"What?"

"Your psychiatrist. The person they assigned for you?"

"Oh." Eric tried remembering what his name was, but it escaped him. "I don't remember."

"Wow. Only been a few days and you're already forgetting shit." Kenny laughed loudly as Eric flipped him off.

"It was some dude, I know, but I barely paid attention. I'll have to look at the paperwork I got before I was dropped off."

"Well, maybe it will be someone good."

Eric doubted it.

* * *

When Eric got the notification later that day that he would have gotten a package, he was surprised. He walked over towards the desk on his floor, and picked it up.

The receptionist used a knife and helped Eric with the package, and when he opened it, he found two bags of cheesy poofs, and a piece of paper. He took it out and looked over it.

 _'Eric,_

 _I hope everything is going okay for you. It's been quiet without having you here, and honestly I go to your room expecting you to be there with your friends or playing a game, but it's just empty. I miss you so much, sweetie. You've been all I've thought about since you went away._

 _We know you're going to get better, sweetie. This experience will help you. We are still looking into your situation. I know that you have good inside of you. I just wanted to let you know I still think about you._

 _I love you,_

 _Mom.'_

Eric grimaced at the smudged handwriting at the signature. He took the food back with him, but he crumbled the paper and threw it into the trash.

* * *

The assigned room that Eric had to go to was in the back of the clinic, three floors above the hall where he lived. He knew he had to go the specific room, and it reminded him a lot of trying to find a class the first day of school. He looked at the paper in his hands. _Room 12, Floor 3._

"Why couldn't they have just given me someone on my own floor?" He grumbled to himself as he took the elevator up to the floor. He walked towards the rooms in the back, and when he finally find where he was supposed to go, he stared at the door for a good few seconds. He didn't want to do this. A part of him wondered if he could just get away with it and go back to his room, but he knew he'd be in more shit if he just skipped. Sighing, he opened the door, and flinched when he saw a girl by the front desk.

She turned towards him, almost looking right through him.

She had long black hair that reached the dip of her back, and she wore a long-sleeved pink shirt. She had a pink cap on that barely let her bangs out.

"Hello?"

"Um," Eric paused, feeling slight irritation.

"You're Eric, right?" She grinned. "My name's Wendy, your psychiatrist assistant."

As she straightened up something in the room, she moved one of the chairs. Eric didn't know why just seeing made him feel uncomfortable, but she had this promptness that was off-putting. She seemed very different than his other therapist.

"Where's…" Eric looked down at the paper to see his name, but Wendy beat him to it.

"He should be here any moment. He went to grab some of your records and files, so it will be any moment. Why don't you go ahead and take a seat?"

Eric didn't do anything at first, but with another glance by those sharp eyes, he eventually walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. The room only had a desk and a couple of other chairs, but other than that it was mostly shelves and books. This person must have really liked to read.

"How are you liking Peak View so far?" Wendy asked, pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. Eric just shrugged.

"Not much for talking?" Wendy asked, sitting in the other seat. Eric knew it was official. She annoyed him.

"How do you think it has been?" Eric sighed.

"I'm not sure," Wendy looked carefully at Eric, causing the other boy to get slightly flustered at her zooming up to him. "You look like you haven't slept much."

"The bed's uncomfortable." He said, simply. Wendy nodded, with a disbelieving look.

"Sure."

"It is." Eric argued, and Wendy chuckled.

"Well, maybe flip to your other side or something." She guessed. Eric glared towards her, and she laughed even more at the look on his face.

"You look angry."

Before Eric could say anything, Wendy looked at the door and walked towards it.

"He's here!" She said, helping the gentleman come inside as he attempted to get the door. Eric watched as the man came inside the room.

Upon eye contact, Eric could see two green eyes behind frameless glasses, a head of red, curly hair, and a freckled face. He was tall, probably within six feet, and he was dressed in a button-down plaid shirt with dark jeans. The brunette shuddered as he passed on a brilliant smile. He wasn't sure how to feel, but as this man came in, he felt more exposed than he preferred, and he shivered at the voice that followed.

"Good afternoon, Eric. My name is Mr. Broflovski, and I will be your psychiatrist."

He reached out a hand, and Eric took it, hating how natural it felt.

"But please, feel free to call me Kyle."

 **A/N: Hey, guys. I uploaded this on ao3 as well, but this is my attempt at a multi-chap that is focused on Eric Cartman. Please let me know what you think. I will try to keep this updated per week, but as I am in university, it could be hard later on in the year. Once again, thank you for reading.**


	2. would you do the honors

Even when he was a kid, he didn't get nightmares.

There'd be nights where he wouldn't be able to sleep, sure. His ceiling was covered in painted stars and meteors, and Eric would stay awake just to count them. He was too preoccupied to sleep, falling into a repetitive stasis where he'd do nothing but stare at the ceiling. While he was young, he considered being an astronaut, finding it amazing to go somewhere so out of reach, where the unknown was limitless. He'd pretend to jump from one star to the next, like how the people on TV would jump on the moon. When he'd wake up the next morning, his mother would scold him as he'd put his head in his arms instead of finish his cereal. He didn't really care that much if he would waste his time overthinking. Eventually, he came home from school one day and realized that his room was painted in an entirely different color. It was purple instead of navy blue, and the ceiling was plain. There were no more stars, no more excuses to stay awake at night. At first he was upset, but then he realized maybe being an astronaut was lame. Maybe he could be something where he could envision himself.

It was almost three in the morning, and Eric couldn't breathe.

It took less than a second for the blankets to the fall to the floor. Eric sat up and tried taking in deep breaths as he tripped towards the bathroom. He didn't know what was happening, except his skin felt like it was melting off his bones. He flipped the lights on as he splashed water over his face. He took some of the water coming out of the faucet to his mouth. Cringing at the taste, he took what he could get, feeling slightly better as the cold water ran down his throat. He started the shower, thankful that these rooms had their own walk-in showers. He ran it on the lowest temperature, drinking more water and staring at his sleep-deprived face. How many times had he woken up like this in the past week? It had to have been at least five times.

Eric hissed at the contact of water to his skin as he stripped out of his pajamas and stood under the showerhead. That burning sensation slowly stated to fade, even though his hands still felt hot. He stared down at his palms, pushing them above his head as he typically did when he showered. Even the water couldn't get rid of the weird feeling. Eric ran one of his hands down his face, pushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he reached for the cheap-ass shampoo they kept in one of those tiny containers. He lathered his head as he tried recollecting himself. He would sleep fine back at home, but this wasn't anything like South Park, and he'd be damned if he tried to associate it as such. At first, he felt like it was right to avoid sleeping, to see what they'd say, but now even trying to sleep was harder than it had ever been. Eric groaned as the water ran colder, hitting his shoulders like icy picks.

He finished washing his hair, and he glanced back towards his hands, to see them fully red. His eyes widened as blood dripped from his fingertips, plopping to the floor of the tub. He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, rubbing his hands aggressively. He didn't feel like he cut himself, so why was there so much blood? He threw the towel on the floor, baffled as his hands weren't scratched, and not even stained. Turning his attention towards the towel, there wasn't a dark pigment on the material.

"What the fuck?" Eric whispered, turning his hands to see nothing but white.

He closed his eyes and whimpered, bringing himself back to the sink and splashing water on his face. He lifted his face, those bags more noticeable than a few days ago, but he said nothing as he made his way back to the bed. He was going to chop his hands off the next time he saw red anywhere on his skin, he knew it. He turned on his side, not bothering to pick up the blanket, even though he was shivering. Instead, he reached on the other side of the mattress and wrapped his arms around Clyde Frog. He squeezed the stuff animal as he closed his eyes again.

* * *

Wendy glanced down at her bitten nails as she leaned against the wall. It was almost noon, and she looked out of the corner of her eyes to look at the clock. Five till twelve. Sighing, she flipped her hair over her shoulder as she pulled out her phone. She exchanged numbers with Eric on the basis regarding his appointments a couple days ago, but she didn't think she'd have to message him this soon.

 _'Where are you?'_ She started typing out, but she stopped as she heard loud footsteps across the hall. She saw Eric rushing through the hall, almost bumping into a couple of nurses in the process. She closed her flip phone before sending anything and placed it back in her pocket.

Eric came to her and placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath.

"You know, you'd better be lucky Mr. Broflovski is a patient doctor. If you were my patient, I would have mentioned it to somebody by now."

"Whatever." Eric sighed, as he regained himself. "If you were my psychiatrist, I would have walked out as soon as I saw you."

"Excuse me?" Wendy felt herself getting warmer, her hands balling up in frustration.

"Besides, psychiatrists are barely even doctors. They look at you, figure something's wrong with you, come up with some random medication, and that's it." Eric almost found it fun at how the noirette was getting irritated at the things he'd say. It was almost as fun as picking on some of his friends back home.

"You're so full of it!" Wendy growled. "You do realize you're talking to someone who's studying to be in that field?"

"All the most reason to piss on it." Eric smirked. He studied what the assistant was wearing. She had on a long-sleeve lilac top with dark jeans and black converse. She had on this pink beret that Eric would have found annoying on any other girl who would have worn it, but she pulled it off decently. Her long black hair was running down to the midpoint of her back, straight but curly at the tips. She wasn't ugly, but Eric wasn't going to say she was pretty, either.

"If you're done looking anywhere but my eyes, you can go ahead and be fashionably late to your appointment. I'm sure he'd love to hear whatever excuses you have." Wendy took her phone back out and started walking away to what Eric assumed was get something for Kyle.

"You know, if I were you, I would watch my attitude. Your future patients may not a rude girl telling them what to do." Eric barely caught the fire in Wendy's glare that came afterwards as he made his way into Mr. Broflovski's office.

As soon as he walked in, he felt his skin become clammy. He would always have this initial mixture of uncertainty and comfort when he'd walk into this room, and he wasn't sure if it was just the atmosphere, or the way he felt when the ginger sitting in his desk would turn and smile lightly towards him. There was no anger, no impatience, just a nice man that Eric only knew for a couple days.

He hated how he felt this way when he barely knew the psychiatrist. He hated feeling like he was ready to open himself up. He hated the idea of revealing himself to those emerald eyes, and he hated the possibility that he could relate to what he had gone through.

"Eric, good afternoon. I was wondering when you'd get here. I hope you slept alr-" Kyle stopped talking as he walked over towards the brunette and studied his face. Eric flushed slightly, not able to keep eye contact.

"Mm, maybe we can get to that. Why don't you go ahead and take a seat?"

Eric swore he smell a light tinge of cologne, pine trees and ridges as Kyle walked back. He went ahead and sat in the brown chair across from Kyle's desk, the really comfy one that Eric wished he could take and replace the chair in his own room. It was big enough to where he sat in it perfectly, his thighs even having a little leg room.

"I went ahead and got you some coffee, it's a little cooler but if Wendy comes back in a little bit, she can get you another one if you'd like."

Eric picked it up from his right side, where the cup was on the table. He knew he'd only drink it if was black, and after tasting it and realizing it was, he looked up with a surprised glance.

"You mentioned how you liked your coffee when we first met." Kyle smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he opened a folder.

"Why would you remember that?" Eric muttered. Kyle chuckled in response.

"Well, partially because you're one of the only other people I know that drinks coffee the same way I do." Kyle raised the cup to his side. "Unfortunately, considering I don't drink coffee that much, I stick with good ol' tea."

"To keep up your aesthetic?" Eric hated how it sound more challenging rather than witty, but Kyle raised an eyebrow.

" _Aesthetic_?"

"I mean, you got a million books, your room looks too organized, and your glasses don't even have frames." Eric smirked. It was infinitely more entertaining to counter what Kyle had to say rather than Wendy, for some reason.

"Well, Mr. Cartman, that is mostly because I am diabetic." Kyle tasted some of his drink, leaning back in his chair. "Green tea and water are all I really 've had green tea before at one point, haven't you?"

"Tea is gross." Eric grimaced at the memory of when his mom gave him iced tea years ago and how he would have rather had Dr. Pepper.

"Well, at least we have coffee to love equally." Kyle grinned. "Now, before I continue to let you rant about my 'aesthetic'," he attributed air quotes as he said this, "l wanted to ask you how you slept last night."

"Why?" Eric glanced at his hands, imagining the glow of red blood over his twitching fingers.

"Well, considering you look more drowsy than our first visit, I figured you'd didn't have a good time sleeping last night. There are noticeable bags under your eyes."

Eric didn't say anything, his eyes on his hands and on the floor. He appreciated how Kyle didn't pressure him into talking. The last time that the two of them got together, it was mostly silent, because Eric didn't want to say anything. How could he say anything? Even though he felt as though Kyle was friendlier, he still wanted to leave this place without it getting to him.

"Nightmares." Eric replied. It was technically a lie, since Eric hadn't had too many nightmares since he arrived at Peak View, but the idea of his hands being covered in blood wouldn't leave his mind. He squeezed his eyes at the thought. Kyle sent a sympathetic look towards him.

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Eric. You want to talk about it?"

Not really. Eric thought to himself, but he looked up to see there was a genuine look of sadness on Kyle's face. He didn't remember the last time he saw someone with a look like that.

"They're just random, I guess." Eric rubbed the back of his neck. "I barely remember anything from them."

"Well, that's alright. We don't have to go into detail if you don't want to." Kyle wrote something down on a piece of paper next to him. "I just don't want you to go insomniac on me."

"I'm not insomniac." Eric countered, and Kyle nodded.

"Well, if you continue to have issues with sleeping, I can help you with that as well, give you some other medication to whatever you are taking right now."

Wendy knocked on the door, and as Kyle acknowledged for her to come in, Eric saw in her hand a bag of something. Then, he realized what they were as Kyle took the package out from the bag.

"Thank you, Wendy. That's all I need for now, so go ahead and get a bite to eat."

"Thank you, sir." Wendy left the room, and Kyle took a couple other things out of the bags. There were bowls, and some snacks.

"You like Cheesy Poofs, don't you?" Kyle opened the bag of bowls and set one out with the bag of chips next to it. "Go ahead and help yourself."

"Seriously?" Eric stood up from the chair and poured some chips into one of the plastic bowls. He then sat back down as Kyle opened a container of honey-roasted peanuts.

"Well, Liane did tell me these were your favorite, and I was getting a little hungry myself."

Eric's eyes widened at the revelation that Kyle interacted with his mother, and he was speaking about it so nonchalantly. There was now this overwhelming anger that the brunette couldn't try to hide.

"You talked to my mom?"

"Well, yes. She's a very sweet lady." Kyle popped a nut into his mouth.

"Why did you talk to her?" Eric hissed, standing up. Kyle narrowed an eyebrow at this response, but Eric didn't care.

"Eric," Kyle raised a hand. "I talked to her to get more information about yo-"

"I don't _care_!" The boy bellowed. "I didn't even realize she could get in touch with the people here!"

"Of course she can, but Eric, please calm down."

"She needs to quit trying to check up on me! I don't want her to talk to me, and certainly not some random ass stranger that's trying to coax me with this shit!" Eric pushed the bowl of cheesy poofs out of the way as he made his way towards the door. "Tell her I said fuck off!"

"Eric, please." Kyle tried communicating something, but Eric didn't get to listen as he made his way out of the room. Wendy noticed this from the end of the hall and tried to track Eric down.

"Eric, wait!"

But Eric was already gone, leaving a trail of red as he went.

* * *

The rest of the day went by slowly as Eric preoccupied himself with one of his coloring books.

He loved coloring since he was a kid, and it relieved his stress whenever he used his coloring pencils to sketch anything. He wasn't trying to think about how out of line he was earlier, and he even admitted to himself that even the mention of her shouldn't be something to make him go off. He shaded the inside of Iron Man's helmet, digging his red pencil in further as he thought of her obnoxious smile. The shade of red would have matched her favorite cherry lipstick, and Eric almost choked at that. Why would Kyle need to talk to his own mother, anyway? Wasn't that against the whole therapy thing? But he thought about it, and stopped coloring as he sat back in his bed. He imagined what would happen if he told Kyle everything. If he was intimate with him. The idea was barely processed, and Eric could already see his psychiatrist blabbing it to his mother. Liane would be disappointed, but Eric wanted to say he didn't care. That woman might as well as be dead to him. Clutching his pencil in his grip he sighed, looking towards the window and seeing specks of snow against the glass. It was already almost December, which meant it was almost Christmas. The snow was only going to get heavier from this point.

He prayed that Ms. Jackson's car would get stuck.

* * *

"This pizza is really soggy. Do you want my slice?"

Eric glanced towards Kenny's tray to see that he still had a slice and a half of pepperoni pizza left, and an orange. He didn't answer, but he did take the full slice. The blonde boy picked his orange and started peeling off the skin, flicking little pieces to Eric's tray just to make him irritated. Kenny enjoyed picking his buttons.

"All of the food here sucks." Eric muttered, and Kenny flashed a toothy grin.

"Not all of it. Taco Tuesdays aren't too bad. They actually have edible tamales."

"Tamales aren't tacos," Eric commented, but he figured it was the Mexican-theme so they could throw anything at it. Kenny shrugged as he took a bite of his orange.

"They're still fucking good."

"What's the point of getting extra food if you're not even going to touch half of it?" Eric said, and Kenny looked off to the side.

"I'm pretty flimsy. I really need to try to eat more, but every time I get more food, I can barely eat any of it."

"You're just weird." Eric finished his pizza, and it was quiet for a couple of minutes before Kenny kept looking off to the horizon. Eric lifted an eyebrow.

"What are you looking at?"

"Dude, that girl is totally checking you out from the other side of the cafeteria." Kenny pointed with his eyes, and Eric turned to look over his shoulder, feeling his heart plummet as he met the eye contact of Wendy.

She was eating some kind of salad that looked gross to Eric but he wasn't surprised that she was eating it. She didn't turn away, and she looked like she was starting to collect her stuff.

"Do you know her?"

"She's the assistant to my psychiatrist." Eric mumbled, looking down as he scooped some pinto beans with his spoon. Kenny instantly looked interested, and he leaned in.

"She's so cute! If I didn't have someone I was interested in, I'd totally talk to her."

"Wait you-" Eric was about to question this, but before he did anything, he felt the presence of someone next to them. They turned to find Wendy standing right next to Eric, her hands on her hips and her purse on her shoulder.

"Hello, Eric. Is it possible I can talk to you in private?"

"Sure, don't let me get between you two." Kenny started getting up, taking his tray with him. He winked towards Eric, who just shuddered at the idea of anything happening between the two of them. He couldn't even imagine with someone like her.

"Thanks, Ken." Wendy sat down at the table from where Kenny was just at, and now Eric scoffed at her.

"Wait, so you know him, too?"

"I've been helping Mr. Broflovski out since before Kenny came to this place. I know everybody."

"What do you want? I'm trying to eat here."

Wendy took a deep breath, before leaning in slightly. Eric couldn't take his eyes away from the stern look on her face, like she must have been contemplating how to say this

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened a couple of days ago."

"Oh, God." Eric grunted, his blue eyes almost rolling to the back of his head.

"I don't want to talk about as much as you do, but I just feel as though you should know this before anything bad happens when there shouldn't have been mindless drama in the first place. Please just hear me out, you don't have to listen to me any more afterwards if you don't want to."

Eric didn't say anything. He found it pathetic how she was basically begging him to reconsider what happened, but he looked at her with an expression that showed he was willing to listen, so she smiled lightly.

"I want you to know that since you've been talking to him, he's been acting…a lot differently. He seems to be in a happier mood. Trust me, I've been helping him out I starting becoming an assistant, and he is one of the nicest people I have ever worked with. He has changed so many lives. But it's different with you. He typically has the same passion towards all of his patients, but when I see him interact with you, or at least during that first day, there was something in him that was not like the other times."

"What do you mean?" Eric asked, and Wendy looked down at the table.

"I'm not really sure. He just seems to really passionate about you. I can see it when he talks about you."

Immediately Eric became wary. "What does he say about me?"

"Nothing related to your case, if that was what you were wondering. Just, about you as a person. He really likes you, Eric."

Eric didn't say anything at first, wondering what his psychiatrist saw in him. It wasn't like he was particularly interesting, or at least, he didn't think he. He was just another patient, so why…

"Just think about what I told you. If you really want to keep dragging this out, go ahead. But something tells me Mr. Broflovski isn't going to let you drop him, so just…think about it, okay?"

Wendy stood back up and left, leaving Eric alone by himself and the crusts of his pizza he didn't eat.

* * *

Eric tried going to bed for the third time that night.

He turned from his right side of the left, feeling himself become sweaty under the blanket. Clyde Frog was somehow on the floor, and the air conditioning was barely working. Eric groaned as he remembered what his last dream, which was a never-ending hallway, covered in black and brick.

Walking through the hall, he tried to find a door to escape. There were only doors locked, covered with bold numbers. He remembered the same doors from his old high school, and he kept walking to find the doors repeating themselves. He was starting to panic. He tried to break through one of the doors, but they didn't even sway as he'd push against them. Frustration starting to peak, Eric ran as fast as he could towards the end of the hall, a white light that didn't give way to have a means of ending. He didn't care if ended, he just wanted proof that he was in the moment. He tried yelling, not hearing his voice. So, he just ran and ran. He stopped once he saw a shadow in that white light, a smaller figure. It turned is head and Eric woke up, screaming.

He stayed awake afterwards for a while, shaking. He tried going back to sleep for the third time that time, but he didn't have such luck.

* * *

Eric showed up an hour early, sitting in that brown chair.

He was surprised that the room was unlocked, but he didn't mind since that was what he was hoping for. He felt himself drift like he wanted to sleep, but he would force himself up as soon as he felt his eyes close. He kept this eyes on the door. Didn't that man come early at all? He glanced around the room, at the white walls, the bookshelves. He knew that Kyle liked to read, but he recognized some of the titles from the spines of the novels. They were mostly poetic works, Shakespeare and Sidney the most prominent.

So he likes poetry.

Strangely, it was fitting to associate the man with that genre. Eric didn't hate Shakespeare while he was in high school, but he did find the diction annoying. He wondered what Kyle's favorite play was. He wondered if it was Romeo and Juliet, or it was something obscure.

He heard the door open, and Eric rolled his head slowly towards it. Kyle was dressed more formally than before - which Eric had to guess at twice because how could he be even more formal – and now he was wearing this suit. It was a salmon-striped shirt, covered with a grey jacket and trousers. Eric couldn't even deny that Kyle was attractive in that outfit, but he refused to linger on it.

"You're here early, Eric." He almost sounded breathless.

"I know." Eric sighed, looking away for a couple of minutes as Kyle set his stuff down. The two of them shared in a comfortable silence until Eric couldn't do anything else.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry."

Eric saw the look of understanding on Kyle's face, but he knew that it was just a barrier. He wondered if Kyle could see how hard it was for Eric to apologize to him, let alone anyone.

"All is forgiven." Kyle smiled. "I acted more on the behalf of what was important for your case rather than how you felt, so from now on, I will ask about your comfort before making a decision."

Eric tried to mumble a word of thanks, but his tongue was stuck on the roof of his mouth. The mixture of luxurious and simplicity from Kyle's voice, he could never take for granted. It was easy to see how people could trust him so easily. He wondered how long it would be before he completely fell into that trust. He didn't think it would be too long.

"Just to let you know, I only want to help you, Eric. But I also want you to be able to tell me whatever comes to your mind without feeling like you shouldn't have to tell me. Does that makes sense?"

"Yes." Eric replied.

"You are my patient, but I would also like to be your friend."

"Okay." Eric sighed, closing his eyes for a couple of minutes. He took a deep breath.

Kyle leaned forward, fixing his eyes on Eric's gaze.

"I want you to understand that your illnesses are valid. You are valid, Eric. I will support you in any way you want me to."

Eric continued to stare towards the other man – why was he doing this for him?

"Bipolar symptoms are going to be with you for the rest of your life, but there are ways we can help you, ways that I can help you, and ways you will realize that you can help for yourself. Your family cares about you, your friends care about you, I care about you."

 _You do?_

"However long you need me to be there for you, I will be there. All you need to do if I get over line is tell me, okay, Eric?"

Eric looked in those eyes, those eyes full of color and life. He nodded slowly.

"Yes."


	3. life is a game

Peak View's patients typically related their first month in residency to being the worst.

They would say that it was hard being accustomed to the new atmosphere, the wild eyes watching their backs like they had too many secrets to hide. Rumors passed easily, a shudder of gossip slipping through ears faster than in school. Eric found this to be the case when he arrived, taking as much as a seat within the cafeteria and noticing all of their cold, hard faces. He was only living there for about three weeks before he heard the things said about him, even from back with the encounter in group therapy. He didn't care about the opinions from anyone else but himself, and possibly the strange man who managed to tangle himself in the boy's life, uncalled for. Sharp eyes, an impenetrable wit, all traits that Eric thought only he could carry.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

"You seem to be hesitant this morning, Eric." That voice was snapping him back to their reality, where he was sitting in that same damn chair, in the same damn room bordered by shelves of books. Kyle was dressed in more casual attire, a v-neck shirt with those pockets that Eric absolutely couldn't stand but for some reason found it alluring on him, and a striped blazer. However, instead of trousers, there were jeans on the man. _Jeans_.

"Hesitant?" The word was almost shy, and he hated the lingering of his tone.

"Well, you've been there for almost twenty minutes and you've done nothing but stare off into space. But that's alright, being deep in thought is never a bad thing. I mean, that's mostly true, anyways." Kyle took a sip of his tea. He sighed as he broke away from the edge of his cup. "Mostly true in how it's _you_ we're talking about."

"Got a lot on my mind." Eric pointed out. He realized that was an open prompt for continual discussion, but a part of him wanted to have the upper hand. He felt as though it was his right to leave the older man speechless.

"Nothing shameful about that. I can tell you are an expansive thinker." Kyle replied. Eric raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take that. He never thought about the kind of interpreter he was.

"What does that even mean?"

"You like to see the bigger picture. You're a visionary, Eric."

"I guess." Eric sighed, leaning back into his seat. His focus grabbed a hold of the picture hanging on the side of the wall, a dog riding a tricycle with a birthday hat on, vivid colors playing in the back. He found it almost ironic, a spontaneous image found in such a structured environment.

"Not a lot of people think that way, it's almost incredible, really." Kyle said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Eric caught the affirmative look in those eyes, green, lush with promise. He gulped.

"Visionary people are the ones who change the norm. They create their own standards for the way things should be done. They are the inventors." Kyle explained, Eric nodding to the sound of his voice, not too interested in the praise. He was too distracted by this man, this doctor that held no other degree to his well-being than his mentality, which was already loose and broken.

He glanced towards the palms of his hands.

Seeing the prints of red, he didn't squirm as he once did, he treated it like it was something of a birthmark. He twisted his right hand to see nothing drip, it only continued to stick. Imagining those same hands to be like crafters of God, stacking up buildings and designing roads, laying out the blueprint of any kind of a plan. Perhaps, when he left this place, this could be his calling: to change. Instead, he lowered his hands, looking towards Kyle and unsure how to feel about those sturdy eyes, judgmental with the best of interest. Or, at least, for now it would be best of interest. Eric wondered if Kyle could see the blood, if he knew this entire time and was waiting for him to confess. Confess, dammit, confess to everything you've ever done, and will do! Kyle was waiting to scream that, Eric was sure, so just go ahead and scream it, scream at me –

"Eric?" Kyle questioned, and Eric simply shook his head. The tan of his hands came back into the light, and he tore away his gaze.

"Why do you think I am that way? You've only known me for a few weeks, and you're already telling me I could this, or that. I'm asking why."

Kyle didn't say anything at first, the ticks of the clock louder than anything Eric had ever heard. He was worried if his ears would start bleeding, too. He could feel the itch just from the thought.

The psychiatrist stood up from his desk and started walking towards the side of the room. He flipped through a few books, until one caught his attention. Sliding it out of its position, he walked over towards Eric and passed it to him.

"I want to go ahead and let you borrow this novel. It's one of my favorite books, and I feel like you would really appreciate it, also."

Eric looked at the title of the book and scrunched his face. _'The Catcher in the Rye.'_

"Isn't this some book they make you read in high school?" Eric flipped the book over and studied the contents of the back cover, the orange and cream illustrations melding together.

"Several people were able to identify with this novel, and it was very controversial when it was published. However, I feel like there are people who need to read it just because of the main protagonist. I feel like you would relate to him, Eric."

"What makes you so sure?"

Eric didn't enjoy reading. He found it bland and pointless, and he would rather have spent his time playing games or doing something outside. When he was younger, his grades would continually slip with English because he just did not like reading the material.

"I'm not sure. That's the fun of being curious, and finding out. Just give it a chance."

Eric glanced at and noticed Kyle was much closer, the closest he had been since one of their earlier interactions. Dimples and olive skin melded, aesthetically pleasure, scarlet curls and smooth skin.

Eric bit down on the side of his mouth and nodded, pretending to care.

"Now, why don't we get a little progress before the end of the session, hm?"

Kyle grinned, and Eric nodded, doing just about anything to continue the illusion of blind happiness.

* * *

Words carried on about Kenny McCormick were even worse, as Eric remembered. He thought of this as he and the blonde boy himself carried their way outside for the first time in a couple of days, joining some random lady for an afternoon yoga session. It was never in Eric's mind to volunteer, but Kenny insisted that he needed the break and to feel the Colorado air move through his bones again, or something cheesy like that.

"I'm surprised we haven't taken advantage of this sooner." Kenny said, laying his mat down. Eric looked at him, humored, as he did the same thing.

"We'll probably be the only two guys here." Eric said, and Kenny shrugged.

"All the better for me."

"Jesus." Eric chuckled. They stretched out their arms and legs as other people made their way for the class. There was some brunette lady who was obviously the instructor for the course, and Kenny gave off a grin in her direction.

"I'm not really sure if your special someone would appreciate you flirting with some random chick." Eric replied, as she led them into a Downward Dog. He leaned down and attempted touching his own mat, staring at his dangling stomach.

"Probably not, he can get quite possessive." Kenny replied. Eric thought he misheard that.

"…what?"

"My boyfriend gets quite possessive. If he knew I was making eyes towards Michelle, he'd probably blow a fuse."

Eric stood back up, straightening his back. "I didn't realize you were into guys, Kenny."

"Well, I'm technically into guys and girls, but I'm dating a guy right now." They situated themselves into the Upward Dog. Kenny was able to stretch his legs almost perfectly behind him, and Eric struggled getting into position. "I haven't really seen him for a while, though."

"This place not let you see visitors often?" Eric asked, and Kenny didn't say anything for a minute or so. There was a look of deep concentration on his face, as they shifted back into sitting positions.

"I wouldn't say that. It has just been a little weird since I came here. We talked less and less, and even though we're still dating, I just feel like me being here is affecting him. I wouldn't blame him."

Eric didn't say anything in response. He found it hard to acknowledge the emotions of others, especially when it was from someone whose voice, whose mannerisms were still so foreign to him. This boy who had randomly spoken to him, who showed him an instance of kindness.

A lot like _him_.

"But his best trait is his loyalty. He's waiting for me back at home, and when I get out of here…"

Kenny sighed. He glanced towards the muddled sky as Eric followed suit, glancing uncomfortably at the boy's shaking hands. He watched as Kenny reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a piece of silver that gleamed.

"Shit."

"I know," Kenny replied, twisting the ring between his index finger and his thumb. "I meant to give it to him before I left but things got in the way and I may not see him for a long time."

Eric blinked, a sudden restlessness in his eyes. The subtlety of Kenny's words dangled in front of him, like a rope that Eric wanted to grasp and tug, pull so hard until the seams fell out and it snapped.

"Alright, time to raise up." The instructor Michelle called, motioning her body upwards and bringing her hands to her sides. Kenny followed, putting the ring back into his pocket as he leaned to the side, and as Eric mimicked.

Eric raised his hands towards the sky, but kept his eyes on the other boy, who didn't look back towards him, but to the horizon, in its apathetic glory.

* * *

Ms. Jackson continually annoyed Eric more since their first encounter.

He didn't need much to know this. Her eyes would flash across the circle, attempting to meet his gaze but failing almost every time, and averting back to the other goonies there. Eric wished she would quit looking at him, judging the ground that he walked on. It was hard enough to get through these sessions without falling asleep, now he had to invest himself in pretending to give a shit. He never wanted to give her the satisfaction that she was better than him, and it was something Eric would say he was good at.

Proving his superiority.

"In Florida, we would never have to wear this many layers of clothes. Keep that in mind if any of you want to get away for a break, or for some sun."

Eric kept the idea of her burning in the Floridian heat in his mind, and he smirked to himself.

"There's also Disney." Roger recalled, and Ms. Jackson smiled, clasping her hands.

"Of course! Just make sure you plan ahead to avoid the tourist traps."

Eric shuffled himself in his seat, glancing towards the clock. The two minutes that remained ticked so slowly, he was starting chew the inside of his mouth in the anticipation of running through that door.

"Alright everyone, before we head out, I wanted to remind everyone that Christmas is only in a couple of weeks. I think that for this weekend, just think about all of the things that you are thankful for, and when we meet again next week, we can talk about openly as a discussion. I think it would help us before the holidays to be able to discuss our favorite things about Christmas."

The therapist grinned, scanning the room. "You're free to go."

Eric was the first to go, making his way towards the door in almost a frenzy. He could feel the freedom from the hour of sitting on what seemed like nails.

"Ah, Eric, would you mind staying for a couple of minutes, please?"

Eric shut his eyes and internally groaned as the other boys made their way outside of the room. Kenny flashed him a small grin, and Eric never wanted to flip the blonde off more. He turned and slowly walked back towards Ms. Jackson.

She pulled some of her hair away from her shoulders and put her hands behind her back. He hated the grin that she wore, her lips thins as the sides of her mouth made indents into her skin. It was obvious she had plastic surgery, just from her face alone. Eric didn't want to think about the possibility of anywhere else.

"I just wanted to talk to you since I feel like the both of us got off on the wrong start. I don't want you to feel like you have to hold walls against me, Eric."

Her minty voice sounded like chalk in his ears.

"Why would you think that?" He asked, avoiding her gaze as he looked towards the floor.

"I know that being in this situation is hard for you. If I were seventeen years old in rehab, I would probably feel the same as you."

Eric felt himself ball his hands into fists, but loosened himself as soon as he suspected.

"I just want you to know that if you ever want someone to talk to, for anything, I will be here. Being openly communicative to someone can help you more than you think."

There was a brief silence. Eric flitted his eyes back towards her gaze, and could see through her eyes that dismissive undertone. He felt his insides knot up at the plastic emotions, her silicon eyes trying to break him apart.

"Which is why I think it would be of your best interest to spend more time with me with one-on-one sessions, so you and I can get down to these rampant emotions you feel."

The word was thrust into the air like a disease, and Eric didn't dare loosen himself.

He couldn't stop seeing a blur of reds and oranges, and a part of him just didn't know what he was going to do next.

"If you want to help me, you'll stop trying to get to me." Eric said, stepping in closer. "I don't need anyone's help, especially from the likes of an actress therapist who doesn't know one thing about me. So _stop_ trying."

Eric turned away, trying to count to ten. He needed to get away, back to his room, where he could be with his coloring book, his Clyde Frog. He needed to stop being so angry, to calm down and not think about her.

Get out, now.

Get the hell out before you do something you'll regret.

"Eric, please wait-"

Ms. Jackson closed the distance and put a hand on his shoulder, before Eric turned around and pushed the arm off, gripping onto her wrist. She shook, her lips trembling and her eyes scattered. Eric could see it, the denial and the fright in trapped in those colors of blue and green, swirling.

God, it was just like her.

He hated how much it was like her.

"If you don't leave me alone," Eric whispered, "I may just kill you."

Ms. Jackson yanked the arm away and froze, that same petrified look. Eric said nothing else as he walked out of the room, remembering his bloodied hand on her wrist, red mixing with ivory.

* * *

 _"What are you doing, Eric?"_

 _The boy did not register his friend calling for him, walking in his front yard and searching, He carried a microscope in his right hand, and he crouched in the dirt as he found what he was looking for: the biggest anthill. The eight year-old pushed the sweat out of his eyes as he positioned his weapon, finding a big ant. His friend came towards him crouched besides him._

 _"Eric?"_

 _"Sh." The boy hissed as he started spot on the back of the ant started shrinking as the tiny flicker of smoke rose. His friend blinked incredulously towards him._

 _"Why are you doing that? You're hurting him!" He leaned forward and tried to stop Eric, but the bigger boy pushed him as he leaned further in._

 _"Butters, if you're going to keep being a pussy, then go home."_

 _"But I don't want to go home. My mom is still mad at me and if she sees me…"_

 _Butters grimaced as the deed was done, the ant lying dead on the ground. Eric was already looking for another victim, indifferent of his victory._

 _"Wasn't like that fella was asking for it." Butters muttered, and Eric shrugged._

 _"I'm bored."_

 _"Then let's go play a game or something!"_

 _Eric didn't do anything at first, his mind balancing the two options, before he stood up and brushed off his pants. "Sure."_

 _Butters and Eric walked to Eric's front door, where the two of them walked in and kicked their shoes off. Butters looked into the living room and alleyway of the kitchen to find it eerily empty, while Eric slipped out of his coat and reached for his cat._

 _"Go ahead and set it up." Eric said, and Butters nodded._

 _"S-sure, Eric. Where's your mom at anywho?"_

 _"Working." Eric said, petting as he sat on the couch. Butters said nothing else as it didn't prompt for further discussion. The two boys played Need for Speed, Eric beating Butters in every match because he was the only one who could play with the police car. Butters glanced towards the clock, seeing the time and shuddering._

 _"Do you think I could spend the night?"_

 _"I guess." Eric replied, keeping his eyes on the TV. Butters smiled towards him as Eric won, once again._

 _"Thanks, Eric."_

* * *

Eric walked into Kyle's office to see that Wendy was sitting at the redhead's normal desk, eating a large salad from a plastic bowl. He glanced around to see if was just her, and she met his gaze as she put a strawberry in her mouth.

"You're early."

"You're not Kyle." Eric countered, and Wendy shrugged.

"Fair enough."

Eric narrowed his eyes as she made his way to the other chair. He didn't keep his eyes away from whatever she was eating, the smell of ranch dressing filling the room. He only liked ranch if it was with fried chicken, not what he saw as rabbit food.

"Where is he?" He asked, and Wendy took a napkin and cleaned off her mouth.

"He's in his office at the other place he works at. Peak View isn't the only place he helps with."

"Oh." Eric said, knowing that already but not mentioning it. His nose lifted as she took another bite of her lunch.

"How can you eat that?"

"It's delicious." Wendy commented, smirking towards him. "You should try some."

"I think I'll pass. If it's anywhere near you, I'll probably catch something."

"Right." Wendy rolled her eyes.

Nothing was said between the two of them as Wendy flipped from eating her salad to writing something for what Eric was assuming was schoolwork. He watched her, the concentrated look in her eyes one that he had not seen from her before. It was almost intense, powerful enough for the boy to tap his foot and wish for a command. He said nothing, as she noticed his staring and looked back. They fought for the contact, and Wendy tilted her head.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?"

Eric opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth and nodded as his spit was caught in his throat.

"I think so."

* * *

 _Liane pressed the tube of lipstick to her bottom lip, covering the light pink skin with red radiance._

 _"Your friend Leopold has been spending a lot more time here than before." She commented as she slid into her black dress. Eric was sitting at the kitchen table, eating his dinner and trying not to stare as she got ready._

 _"His name is Butters." He said offhandedly, bringing his fork of spaghetti into his mouth. She glanced towards him and smiled._

 _"That's right, sweetie."_

 _She pulled up the zipper and glanced at the mirror in the kitchen, twisting her head side to side as she put her earrings in._

 _"Do you think that he doesn't get along with his mom and dad?"_

 _Eric didn't say anything. He didn't know what happened between the boy and his parents, but he didn't care enough to ask. Mr. Kitty looked up at the stove, eyeing the pasta and scratching the floor._

 _"Now, now, kitty, kitty. That isn't for you." Liane giggled, picking up the cat. She put the cat in the living room before grabbing her purse and keys. Eric picked up his fork and stabbed the meatballs that were on the side of the plate, entertained at how they split into halves._

 _Liane walked back into the kitchen and smiled, ruffling Eric's hair as she kissed his head._

 _"I won't be gone long." She said as she walked away and made her way towards the door. Eric watched as the cat jumped off the couch and followed Liane, in an attempt to go with her._

 _"No, you need to stay here and keep Eric company." She said, not paying attention as the cat started whining. She glanced towards Eric, her blue eyes to his back._

 _"I love you, sweetie."_

 _Eric said nothing as the door closed, he only threw the plate into the dishwasher and made his way upstairs._

* * *

He had stared up at the ceiling for a good hour before he realized he couldn't sleep.

The boy sat up, tired but not enough to doze. He flipped the light on and found his slippers, yawning as he glanced towards the drawer next to his bed. The book that Kyle had given him was still there, after a week and half of not being touched, not being read. Eric groaned to himself as he caved, opening the drawer and pulling the novel out. He let his fingers linger on the paperback material before he flipped to the first page. He didn't understand why Kyle wanted him to read this so badly, and as Eric continued reading through the first chapter, he couldn't help but find it boring.

"What was I expecting?" He asked himself, closing the book after reading the chapter.

He was about to slide the book back into the drawer before he heard something outside of his room. He glanced at the door, where a shadow passed by, and a hustling noise was heard on the other side. Eric raised himself slowly out of bed and tried to listen through the crack of his door, but there was nothing but silence. Grabbing the flashlight out of another drawer, he made his way outside of the door, into the black hallway.

He hesitated walking. There was nothing but darkness, and the soft still of the hospital machines. He closed his bedroom door before he turned the light on, making his way in the direction that the shadow went.

Coming across rooms that were familiar to him, Eric walked slowly through his floor. It had been a while since the boy felt a sense of adrenaline, and a tinge of fear. He turned the corner and found a staircase that led downstairs, so he followed it.

Without expecting it, Eric spotted the noises to slowly become more obvious as he went down a level. He felt the shadow near him. It was close, Eric knew.

Then, Eric raised his light to see that the hallway looked never-ending. His eyes widened, his dream from weeks ago flooding back into his mind. He started walking towards the end of the hall, past closed doors, only hearing his slippers rub against the tile of the floor. The shadow was playing at the end, and Eric wanted to catch up with it. He started walking faster, and as the shadow started moving away, Eric started sprinting lightly.

He was almost there at the end of the hall before he felt something on the other side, grabbing onto his shirt. He hissed, frightened as he turned his body and flashed the light in someone's face. Eric's eyes widened as it was a nurse, with short, brown curly hair and glaring eyes.

"Son, what do you think you're doing at this time?"

Eric stuttered, not sure what to say.

"But, I saw…"

"You saw nothing, boy. I'm taking you back to your room, come with me."

"Do you not see it? It's right there!" Eric said, and the nurse towards where Eric pointed his flashlight and shook her head.

"It was probably a nightmare, son. Now, no more lingering, back to your room."

Eric was about to say something else but as the nurse walked besides him, he turned to find the shadow still there, flaunting him.

He didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

 _"Eric?"_

 _The boy turned from the bed to see his friend on the floor, underneath one of Eric's blankets with only his head sticking out._

 _"What, Butters? I was almost..."_

 _"I can't sleep." Butters confessed, playing with his thumbs. Eric stared at Butters for a second before sighing, reaching over on his side and finding Clyde Frog. He tossed the stuff animal towards Butters, who just looked at the toy, confused._

 _"What is this?"_

 _"He helps me sleep, so just hold him, I guess."_

 _Eric rolled over to the other side and closed his eyes, listening to the light snores Butters made as he eventually went to bed. He looked back at Butters and rolled his eyes before pulling his own blanket over his shoulder, sheep falling out of his head._

 ** _A/N: Thank you for reading!_**


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